The Terrible Enemy
by KowaretaTsubasa
Summary: We are the Kurama Fangirls. The pretty boy is ours. We own your reputation. Any resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.
1. The Heroes

**The Terrible Enemy**

By: Kowareta

Summary: There are no worse things known to man than murder, theft, rape, and all the usual crimes. There is no vile evil more wrong than one o' them distant dark overlords bent on the domination of the worlds. Or something similar.There is no thing more unthinkable than, well, something unthinkable. Except, maybe...

_...Fangirls._

It is the battle between the forces of the very,very evil, versus the terribly mundane. Read on as Kurama tries to preserve his sanity, and as his friends battle to keep their lives intact and away from the edge of conflict. They're not to know, of course, that there's no real way to escape the terrible enemy.Caught between the dark hoarde of Fangirls, and a small resistance movement, will Kurama and his friends survive the encounter?

This sounds entirely way too dramatic than it really is. But have fun. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

Kurama was paranoid.

They were everywhere. Like every annoying insect that ever existed. Ants, beetles, flies, cockroaches, you name it. _They were always there._

In the corridors, behind the corners, on the sidewalks, in his classes, in convenient stores, _everywhere_. Like some army of _seifuku-_wearing assassins. Perky, happy, and squealing in high-pitched voices, as if the call could be heard by the other members. And if the call _was_ heard, then the response was immediate. They would come flocking around him. Talking all at once in their high voices, squealing at everything he did, watching him with their terrible, soulless eyes.

He had finally found a corridor that seemed remotely clear of those terrible, terrible beings. He leaned against the doorway of a classroom to determine whether or not those _things_ were in it.

Thud!

A noise!

No time to think! He had to take a chance!

Kurama quickly ducked into the classroom. His heart was pounding.

"Ha ha!" came a loud, male voice from the hallway, "Gotcha there, Kazuo!"

The crimson-haired youth gave a sigh of relief. Boys. Just boys. Another thud and Kurama assumed that this 'Kazuo' had punched the other boy back. Childish.

"Shuuichi?"

Kurama stiffened. There it was. That horrible voice with it's horrible tone of inquiry. Slowly, he turned around to face his abhorrent and woeful fate.

The squeal was immediate, and so was the glomp. So deadly was that attack Kurama was sure that he could never truly defeat it. He fell to the floor, his assailant atop him.

…_Fangirls._

---

"Oh! Look, Moeko! Look! There he is!" exclaimed a plump girl with curly amber hair.

She was sitting at a table in a school cafeteria and was staring across the room at a boy with long crimson hair. The excited girl was shaking another girl that had messy dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

"Yes, Nakita, I see him," drawled her companion, "He's hard to miss with that gaggle of girls crowding around him."

It wasn't a large cafeteria. Several wooden tables were set up in rows of five by eight. The floor was dusty and dirty with random debris. It is, after all, a teenage-lunch room. Large windows were opened and the cool air of autumn flowed inwards. One could see the great pigmented leaves of the season wave and ripple on the trees outside.

"He's so cute! He's so popular! He must feel like the happiest person in the world being who he is. Smart, athletic… everything!"

"He looks like a cornered animal," said Moeko indifferently, watching as the boy in question gave a small nervous smile towards the seven or eight girls that were surrounding him, "I feel sorry for him."

Nakita rolled her eyes and snorted at Moeko who continued to eat the rice from her _Kamameshi bento_. Sighing, the amber-haired girl glanced back towards the crimson-haired boy. The girls were crowding in so it was hard to see him, but it looked as if he said something that made some of the girls leave, scrambling away like disturbed scavengers from a kill. The remaining two girls continued to talk to him. The alpha and beta of the pack?

_It's not fair,_ she thought wistfully, _I wish _I _could talk to him._

Nakita was plump. Large, thick, and tall. She was dressed in Meio's _seifuku_, complete with necktie, blazer with school crest, and tartan skirt. She had a heart shaped face with kind almond-colored eyes. Her nose was flat but her nostrils flared out. Like a hippopotamus. And was she just as coordinated. Yet her body was just as big as the heart inside it. Loud, naïve, but caring. That was who Nakita was.

"How is the Volunteer Club going for you?" inquired Moeko.

"It's going okay. We haven't done anything cool yet. But we did go to a hospital to keep the children in there happy. You know, the ones who can't leave. We read books to them."

Moeko nodded.

Moeko was the complete opposite of Nakita though she too wore the same Meio _seifuku_. She was as skinny as a toothpick; flat-chest, thin arms, thin legs, and a pointy nose. She was like some sort of dark crane and probably just as elegant. Fierce green eyes were framed behind her horn-rimmed glasses. Moeko was quiet, mature, and diligent. It was like she had grown up too fast.

"Do anything interesting lately?" asked Nakita.

"I had to pee into a cup. Is that interesting to you?" her friend replied grumpily.

"Oh, so you went to the doctor yesterday, huh?"

"I was supposed to have my blood drawn and my blood drawn only," said Moeko closing up her _bento _and placing the clay pot it came in within her school bag, "Evidently my doctor had other plans."

Nakita laughed, but kept a hand on her mouth and turned away from her friend so that Moeko would not notice. The only problem with that is when Nakita laughs her body shivers and shakes vehemently, which defeats the purpose of trying to let on that she's not laughing at her friend.

Moeko glared, "Oh, I suppose you've never done anything embarrassing?"

Nakita grinned and fluttered her eyelashes, "Of course not."

Moeko merely scowled and returned her attention to the boy Nakita had been slobbering over, "What's his name again?"

The plump girl swooned, "Shuuichi Minamono."

"So…" began Moeko, "Why exactly do you like him, again?"

It was like an American animated cartoon. You could just see the stars and hearts floating around Nakita's eyes.

"Because he's simply amazing!"

"Uh-huh. Question: Why?"

Now it was Nakita's turn to scowl moodily at Moeko. Whenever she was taking flight into dream-land Moeko brought her down to earth. She didn't necessarily like her friend butting into her day-dreams but she knew that it was probably essential to staying at least fractionally sane.

"You wouldn't understand," Nakita explained, wrapping her arms around herself like she was giving herself a hug, which in reality looked like she was wrestling a grizzly bear "You've never been in love."

"Okay, so you and about half of the other girls in school are running around chasing this poor defenseless boy around, just because you like him for no other reason than he's nice, attractive, and athletic?" Moeko wondered skeptically.

"So what? I'm shallow," excused Nakita lamely.

"Doesn't matter," sighed Moeko, "I don't care. Are you busy this Sunday?"

Nakita contemplated a moment before saying, "No. Why do you ask?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged, "_Matsuri_. I have some time off and I know you have nothing to do because there are no club functions on Sundays. I thought you'd like to go with me."

"Oh," said Nakita, mildly surprised, "Can I bring my parents?"

Moeko shrugged, "I'm bringing Grandpa."

Nakita took that as a "Yes." _Of course Moeko would never give a direct answer, _she thought, _as if my question was too hard to understand._

Moeko smiled impishly. She was no mind reader, but she knew her friend well enough to know what she was thinking. Nakita swore that Moeko only smiled when she knew she was getting on someone's nerves.

A bell rang. And Nakita started packing up her own _Noriben bento_, the one she had brought from home. Moeko waited for her friend while watching as the other teenagers packed up their lunches and left. Like a crane, her sharp, predatory eyes easily picked out the red-head among the flock of students. There was a chase.

Two female students, the same ones that had been conversing with him earlier, were frantically searching for him through the crowd. The boy, with subtle and graceful movements, passed through the flock easily, like a wolf slinking through enemy territory.

Moeko grinned wryly. Poor boy.

---

Author's Note: I apologize for the amount of Japanese. It lessons in later chapters.

_Seifuku: _is a Japanese uniform strictly for girls of middle and high school age (although some people wear it as a costume).

_Kamameshi Bento: _A regular _bento _is Japanese for a single-portion takeout meal. A traditional bento consists of rice, fish or meat and one or more pickled or cooked vegetables as a side dish.

_Noriben bento: _is the simplest bento, with nori dipped in soy sauce covering cooked rice.

_Matsuri:_ Are like festivals or holidays in Japan and are sponsored by local shrines and temples.

-KowaretaTsubasa


	2. The Enemy

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter two

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu hakusho.

---

Like most brilliant plots, it began with an idea.

This idea, of course, came from one of the most vile, seedy, and unscrupulous minds imaginable.

"Oh, I wish he was mine!" exclaimed Seiryoku the Fangirl, who was clutching her hands close to her chest.

Seiryoku was a pretty girl. Seiryoku also _knew_ she was pretty. Which made her vain. But she was also a very strong and stubborn girl. She was, after all, the leader of both the Swim Club and the Debate Club.

Seiryoku had short blonde hair. Really short. As in if someone didn't notice her feminine features they would think she was a guy. This hair was spiked up with gel and she wore a horrendous blend of blue lipstick and crimson mascara on her face. She had a strong chin and bright blue eyes.

"Are you talking about your crush, _again_?" inquired a self-assured male voice.

Seiryoku glanced at a boy who seemed to be in his late teens, that was sipping a steaming mug of coffee while reading a the newspaper want-ads. He wore a cotton bathrobe over a simple black T-shirt and baggy denim jeans. His hair appeared to be wet.

This was Konomi, Seiryoku's older brother.

"Are you looking for a job, _still_?" inquired the Fangirl scathingly.

Konomi, whose face had previously looked amused, glared. Both Seiryoku and Konomi were not morning people. He then returned to reading his newspaper.

It was early morning and through an average-sized window, weak white light glazed over the room. It was a very small kitchen. Cabinets cluttered the walls and counters took up the space. They had a refrigerator but they had no dishwasher. They washed all the dishes by hand. A low mahogany table sat in the room which was where Konomi sat.

Seiryoku hummed to herself while loading her _bento_ with rice for lunch today at school. She had been the Fangirl who'd managed to glomp Kurama the day before. She was also the alpha of the Fangirl pack.

Konomi turned a page of his newspaper.

"You _could _just ask him out, you know."

Seiryoku stopped. Just stopped. And stared at her brother like he had suddenly turned into an octopus. Which wouldn't be unusual. His hair kind of looked like a bunch of tendrils when it was wet.

"What?"

Her brother raised an eyebrow at her and repeated what he had said, "You could ask him out. Your crush."

Seiryoku continued to stare. Gradually, a small, malevolent smile grew on her face.

She had an idea.

It was a brilliant idea.

It was a brilliantly _evil_ idea.

And then it became a plot.

She would _make_ Shuuichi like her and she would _make_ Shuuichi hers. No matter who got in the way.

And then Seiryoku discovered that she had been plotting so long that she was late for school.

---

Kurama felt relieved. He also felt relatively safe. Ignoring the leers and lustful stares of most of the girls in his class, he felt almost invulnerable. Almost. He'd feel better if there were _no_ girls in his class, but English class always provided a safe haven for him.

This was mostly because of the teacher who seemed to be the epitome of a military general.

"You!" exclaimed the teacher aiming at a student with a wooden pointer, "Define to me the function of the noble comma!"

The student stuttered, "It's-it's uh… uh… used to… used to--"

Slam!

The teacher's wooden pointer thundered down onto the student's desk.

"Do you, or do you not know the function of a comma?" demanded the teacher.

"N-no sir!" squeaked the student.

"Does _anyone_ here know the function of a comma?" stipulated the teacher.

Kurama raised his hand.

"You!" barked the militaristic teacher, "The pretty boy! What is the function of a comma?"

Kurama responded calmly, "It is used to mark off separate elements in a sentence: introductory clauses, words in a series, parenthetical phrases, or interjections."

The teacher, in a rare fit of humanity, nodded approvingly.

"Good, very good."

Unexpectedly, the door to the classroom opened.

"You!" yelled the teacher pointing towards the intruder, "Define your purpose here!"

"I missed the bus," the intruding female student told him, "I'm late. This _is_ my first class, Mr. Kusari."

"Very well then," said Mr. Kusari stiffly, "Find your seat."

She did and the class continued.

"I have a project to assign to you," said the teacher stiffly, "It will be completed in groups of three people. And no, you may not choose the groups. I have chosen them for you."

Most of the students groaned.

"Silence!" screeched Mr. Kusari waving the pointer about, "I will say the groups aloud. After I have read them you will find your classmates and will begin--" he started passing papers around, "this project. Now, we will begin with the names. Kotai, Ichijiku, and Koten, then Hotaru, Ichigo, and…"

Finally, Kurama's group was called off.

"Minamino, Geraku, and Yuubi-sa."

Kurama felt an imminent doom fall upon his shoulders as two girls snapped their heads around to look at him. One was a very slim girl, and one was a rather plump girl. Kurama knew both girls' names.

Seiryoku Geraku and Nakita Yuubi-sa.

Kurama's paranoia was back!

---

"So let me get this straight, you've been assigned a group project and you have to work with these two girls who are _so_ all over you?"

"That's the gist of it, Yusuke," said Kurama watching warily as a girl bent over nearby to tie her shoe.

It was the end of the school day and most of the students were rushing home in great flocks to catch buses or trains. It was a cloudy day, but sometimes great beams of sunlight burst through the clouds to warm the people below. The autumn trees still bore leaves of all different colors. Swarms of cars drove by the street nearby only to join up in the traffic that makes Tokyo, Tokyo. The sidewalks were crammed with people.

They were just outside the entrance of the school. A cool breeze ruffled their clothes and shifted their hair. Yusuke was dressed in his usual green jumpsuit and Kurama in his required Meio uniform.

Yusuke scratched his head, "Sucks to be you then."

Throughout the school day Kurama had noticed that Seiryuko had flanked him with about two other girls in the corridors to talk about the "project." If Kurama knew any better he'd figure the "project" was him. Nakita had hardly given him any trouble. A couple of shy looks here in there. Whenever he met her glances she'd turn away, embarrassed, to work on something or talk to one of her friends in the hallways. He didn't mind her, he was just very suspicious of her. She was the one who had offered to work on the project at her house over the weekend.

Right now, it was a Friday and school was over. Yusuke had taken it upon himself to walk Kurama home so that no more obsessive girls decided to stalk him. For some reason most girls tended to avoid Yusuke. Which was why Kurama chose to hang around him a lot more.

"Do you think maybe if you pretend that you're homosexual then they'll stop bothering you?"

A flock of students passed by and both Yusuke and Kurama saw some of the female students look at them with a mixture of lust (towards the red-head) and disgust or mild curiosity (towards Yusuke). Needless to say that Yusuke's presence was working perfectly in warding off unwanted Fangirls.

Through the corner of his eye Kurama saw the girl that had bent over to tie her shoe now stood up and appeared to be waiting for someone. She wasn't even looking his way.

"I doubt it," said Kurama, "besides, I'd rather keep my sexuality ambiguous."

Yusuke stroked his chin and wondered aloud, "You think maybe they'd start flashing you just to make sure you're really not interested?"

"I hope not," Kurama declared, and then came a small amused look in his eyes, "And don't let Keiko catch you saying things like that."

"Hah. Anyway, hey, Kurama, are you busy this weekend? I mean this Sunday?"

The crimson-haired youth glanced around distrustfully to see if anyone had heard Yusuke use his name. The only person close enough to hear was that one girl over there waiting and seemed oblivious to their existence. Other than that no one was even in range. Or rather, with everyone walking around, no one stayed long enough in one place to be in range.

"I have that project to work on this Saturday. Other than that I think I am free. I do not think my mother and I are doing anything this Sunday. Why? What is it?"

"Would you like to go to a _matsuri_ with me, Keiko, and Kuwabara?"

"I'll think about it," Kurama answered, confirming nothing. He didn't really feel up to going anywhere with an excessive amount of people. There was a chance one of those Fangirls might be there.

"Hey!" called a voice in one of the flocks of students leaving the school. Kurama noticed the waiting girl perk up.

"Hey, Moeko!" called the voice again. The girl gave a small wave and Kurama noticed a tall black boy emerge from the flock of students leaving to go home.

"You're late, Ronjiru" he heard the girl tell the black boy. The boy shrugged and they started to walk off. But not before the red-head noticed something.

At first it looked as though the girl's head turned to tell something to her friend. And she did. But he could also tell that she was looking at him as if causually sizing up a prey from the corner of her eye.

Kurama's suspicion of about every girl just rose about nine hundred degrees. This girl had been sneaky. Very sneaky. What was it she had been trying to do? Had she been listening in to his conversation with Yusuke? Was she just another Fangirl? Kurama didn't have time to wonder because right at that moment, none other than the leader of the Fangirls appeared. Seiryoku Geraku.

"Shuuichi?"

Yusuke looked at the girl like she was a bug. It was a look the girl noticed and returned. Then she looked up at Kurama.

"Hi," she greeted enthusiastically.

"Hi," Kurama replied timidly.

"I was just talking to Nakita and we decided that we should probably exchange phone numbers."

She held out a slip of paper for him, which the poor boy reluctantly took.

"Those are mine and Nakita's phone numbers. Would you mind giving me yours so Nakita and I could call if something came up?"

Yusuke shifted from one foot to the other. Kurama could tell that he was either impatient or about to hustle this girl out of here.

"Certainly," Kurama said softly even though the thought of giving this girl or the other one his phone number made him wretch. He wrote his number on two different slips of paper with a pen provided by Seiryoku.

The girl smiled a smile that was not a smile. It was a predatory grin. Kurama fervently hoped that she would not try to molest the phone dialing his number over and over again.

Seiryoku smiled, "Thanks. I'm going to go give this to Nakita now."

And then the threat was gone. The red-head gave a sigh of great relief.

"Man, I don't know how you deal with it," Yusuke grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I'd blow up and start yelling at them."

Kurama smiled at the teen and stated, "Well, each to his own as they say."

"Yes, but has it ever been said 'each to _her_ own'? What do you think will happen when these two Fangirls begin to fight over you? That's a clash I don't want to be around."

That was a thought that had never occurred to Kurama.

"You wanna go hang out somewhere? My house maybe?"

"No Yusuke," sighed Kurama heavily, "I just want to go home."

---

Of course, Nakita had no clue that Seiryoku had gone off and gotten Kurama's phone number. Nakita also had no idea that Seiryoku had even gotten a hold of her phone number. Nakita was also distracted. Very distracted. Because right now, she faced one of the most horrible monsters of all: A child.

"Waaah!" cried the infant in her arms.

"Shush, shush, my dear!" cried Nakita.

"Waaah!" cried the infant, still.

Today, the Volunteer Club was focusing it's efforts for taking care of infants at a nursery. Through the course of her stay she had been sprayed with urine and attacked by poop. Moeko had _nothing_ on her. Peeing in a cup, hah! Nakita was feeling _so_ not glamorous right now.

However, Nakita really did adore children. Moeko would probably roll her eyes at that, but Nakita really adored children. Their eyes, their hands, their noses, their toes. She loved them. Except when they soiled themselves. So both she and the baby wailed as she changed the diaper.

It was a fairly large room filled with bright, colorful toys and boxes full of dispensable diapers. Wide windows allowed great streams of light to cover the room. The walls were painted a deep blue, however, there seemed to be several unidentifiable stains on them. There was a collective amount of cribs with infants in them. Some were sleeping, some were screaming, some were giggling. It was crazy!

"Waaah!" cried Nakita.

"Waaah!" cried the infant.

"Are you done yet?" asked an exasperated teenager rocking yet another infant in her arms. This was Hasu, leader of the Volunteer Club.

"Almost," mumbled Nakita, hand held tightly over her nose as she distributed the soiled, sordid, repugnant diaper into the garbage. She then cleaned the baby's bottom, shuddering spastically as she did so, and wrapped the diaper on it. One more hour of this, and then Nakita would be long gone. And when she was long gone she hoped to come home to a nice dinner. And hopefully no one will bring up the concept of the many manifestations of a child's waste.

"I heard something today," Hasu commented vaguely. Watching as other girls and boys of the Volunteer Club cooed over the babies to get them to sleep.

Nakita's curiosity perked and she inquired, "What?"

"You, Seiryoku, and Shuuichi. Quite the group, don't you think?"

Nakita's brain turned to mush as she swooned, "I know! I am so lucky!"

"So… are you going to make a move?"

Nakita blinked, astonished, "No, no! I couldn't! That would probably creep him out. Moeko's said that around half of the school girls already chase him around. I wouldn't want to add to his problems."

Hasu laughed, "Ha-hah! Moeko is probably right. Still, you can try in a way that's not obvious."

Nakita grinned as she lay down the infant inside it's crib. The little infant had finally stopped crying and had fallen asleep.

"I am almost completely sure that Shuuichi could probably recognize any type of advance from a girl."

Hasu shrugged, "Then you have no choice but to be yourself and hope for the best."

The plump girl considered a moment before nodding. She could different and more "alluring", if she was capable of that word, and risk Shuuichi disliking her. Or she could be herself and risk the very same thing.

She glanced at the sleeping infant and placed a hand above her heart. Nakita figured it was better to be hated for who you are than liked for who you're not.

---


	3. The Plan

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter three

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

"I don't like him," said Moeko abruptly.

Ronjiru glanced at her for a moment before sliding dark sunglasses onto his face, "Don't like who?"

Ronjiru was not pretty. In fact, he was actually kind of ugly. His nose was off-center and crooked as if he had been punched in the face multiple times. He was tall, willowy, and lacked hair. His skin appeared to have the consistency of wax and was the color of chocolate.

They had just walked away from Kurama and Yusuke. The sidewalks were so crowded that Ronjiru and Moeko had to push through crowds of people to stay together. The loud noises of cars flooded the air.

Ronjiru raised an eyebrow at Moeko as if prompting her for an answer.

Moeko caught the look, "I don't like Shuuichi Minamino."

Ronjiru's eyebrow stayed raised as he continued to watch Moeko calmly through his shades. Moeko stared up at him, balefully.

"What?"

The black boy shrugged, "And why don't you like him?"

"Has it never occurred to you that we know nothing about him?" inquired the dark-haired girl.

"Everyone is entitled to their secrets," mumbled the black boy slowly. "Why are you ever so curious to discover his?"

Moeko sighed and glanced at the cloudy sky. The great clouds were beginning to diminish as the afternoon wore on. Sunlight peaked and glimmered through the weakening clouds.

"He's smart, Ronjiru, very smart. That's why I don't like him."

The black boy tilted his head to the side and pushed his sunglasses down his nose so he could peer over them towards Moeko.

"You're afraid he isn't what he appears to be. Isn't that so?"

"That is exactly what I am afraid of," the dark-haired girl replied, warily keeping an eye on other passers-by just in case any of them decided to pull out a rocket launcher and go berserk.

"He's absent for days, he doesn't talk to anyone voluntarily, he has no friends except for some kids from Sarayashiki who have nicknamed him 'Kurama'--I don't know what the deal it is with that and I don't want to--and he's smart. Incredibly smart. I don't like Nakita liking him."

"Ah," said Ronjiru pointing at Moeko with both hands, "this is about Nakita."

"Nakita's a sweet girl," bristled the dark-haired teen, "and this Shuuichi guy could be some druggie for all we know."

The black boy blinked, unfazed by the absurdity of Moeko's suspicion. "Okay, so we'll go with the possible druggist theory. We'll keep a close watch on him for a few days and research all his files."

"Whoa, whoa!" exclaimed Moeko waving her arms about. "Hold it right there buddy! We are not going to go spy-freak-magic-commando-hamster on this guy. He'll probably think I'm some type of psycho-stalker school girl out to kiss him. Or that you're an flamboyant gay guy out to get his goods--"

Ronjiru interrupted her, "But I _am_ a flamboyant gay guy, and I'm out to get _everyone's _goods."

The dark-haired girl ignored him. "Look, as far as I'm concerned Shuuichi is a nice normal kid who has some type of sporadic sickness or something. Or he could be rolling in weed. Or he could just be skipping school. Or something. I just don't like him okay?"

"Three theories," said Ronjiru holding up three fingers and ignoring Moeko's comment. "He's sick, he's a druggie, or he's playing hooky. After a few days of observation, we can probably determine which it is."

"Ronjiru, no. Just no. No one needs their privacy invaded like that. I just want Nakita to stay away from him."

As they walked, the stream of people lessened and it was easier to traverse the sidewalks. Every now and then a tree, hanging low over wooden fences, gave them shade from the strengthening sun.

"Wasn't it you who wanted to dig up his secrets?"

Moeko scowled, "I never said I wanted to dig them up. I never said anything about finding them. I don't know where you get this insinuation from, but I don't want to know. Really. I just don't like him and I want Nakita to stay away from him."

"Look," urged the black boy, "all I'm saying is that we can make sure that he's okay for Nakita to obsess over. There is no need to go to war over missing knowledge that may or may not be harmful to other people."

Moeko sighed. If anything, Ronjiru's personality strongly resembled a rock. Solid, calm, laid-back, cool, and collected. He was hard to surprise and not a lot frightened him. He didn't make many qualms, so when he was going to do something, he did it. No questions asked and nothing held back. There was no stopping him when his mind was set on something. Which meant that Moeko had to deter him from Shuuichi's mystery.

Ronjiru and Moeko had reached their destination. It was a small bookstore crammed in-between an Italian restaurant and a realty office. The sidewalk was fairly clear of people now and the sounds of automobiles was fainter.

"Neither of us has time for playing detective. I have work," she jerked her thumb towards the bookstore, "and you have to stay home to take care of your siblings."

Ronjiru opened his mouth to say something but Moeko held up a hand, "And no, we are _not_ going to watch and observe his every move at school. That's just creepy. We are also not going to grab his school files, _which_ by the way are in the principal's office in addition to being securely protected by a key just in case you were going to suggest that, so do not--_do not_--tell me that it'll be easy. It's insane. Just _insane_."

The boy smiled and Moeko felt a small sinking sensation, "Okay," he said simply. "It's insane."

The shorter girl stared at him stonily, waiting for the answer she knew he would give.

"So, when should I bring the false mustaches?" he asked facetiously.

"Arg!" exclaimed the girl pulling at her hair. "This is crazy!"

"Whatever you say Sergeant Sane!" smirked Ronjiru as he saluted Moeko.

Moeko sighed and gave Ronjiru a half-hearted salute, "Goodbye, Commander Crazy."

With that, both teenagers turned their backs on each other and left. The dark-haired girl crossed the threshold of the bookstore, and the black boy wandered off down the sidewalk.

_Great,_ thought Moeko, _now besides work and school I have to stress out over Ronjiru and this wild 'detective mission' that he's _so _obviously going to pull me into. What to do? _

Suddenly, it wasn't so sunny anymore. Suddenly, the clouds rolled in to cover up all sanity.

Needless to say, life was going to get a little more interesting for Shuuichi.

---

He could feel it. He could feel that small, ominous wind brewing. The winds of dark passion were rising up around him, consuming him, destroying him. The sky, now obscured with a heavy fortress of clouds that grew dark and swelled with growing moisture, watched him indifferently, snickered and laughed cruelly of a horrible, terrible thing to come.

He could feel _it_ rising. He could feel a great and awful evil spreading throughout the land. Cold, calculating, strong, and stubborn. It would not give in; it would not surrender. An epic battle was going to ensue and at terrible odds, they would fight against it.

The darkness of the threat couldn't go ignored, for they must hope to overcome this trial as they have overcome all others. And if there was ever a day in need of hope, it would be within the dark days ahead. The days of great peril drew closer, ever closer.

He sighed and looked solemnly into the distance. This time he would be ready. This time he would be prepared. This time nothing was going to get past or surprise him. This time--

"Hello, Kuwabara."

"Ack!" exclaimed the tall boy, jumping and turning around to face the unseen enemy.

Below him, a shorter girl with brown hair and brown eyes stared up at him with a quiet, thoughtful look. Despite the look, the girl seemed to hold an aura of frustrated determination that was beginning to creep into Kuwabara's anxiety. Was something wrong?

"Oh, Keiko, it's just you," he said and then mumbled. "I thought you were some type of great evil."

Keiko laughed softly and then asked, "Have you seen Yusuke? He asked me if I wanted to go to the _matsuri_ this weekend. I never had a chance to answer him."

Kuwabara blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

"Did he ask you anything else?" he inquired suspiciously.

The school girl tilted her head to the side slightly confused, "No, was he supposed to?"

_Darn you Uremeshi,_ thought Kuwabara. _You were supposed to ask her out, not play around!_

"Uhh… yeah," said the orange-haired boy thinking quickly. "He was supposed to ask you to help with that history test."

_Ha, _mused Kuwabara thoughtfully, _that'll teach you to deviate from the Plan._

"Oh," Keiko muttered, suddenly irritated, "that is so like him. Ask me one thing and really mean another."

"Aw, c'mon Keiko," said Kuwabara, immediately regretting his little lie, "you know he'd have asked you eventually. Besides, you can still go to the _matsuri_ with him just to make sure he stays out of trouble."

_And stops being such a punk_.

Keiko blinked at him, "I thought you were coming too. That's what Yusuke said."

"What? Uremeshi how dare--" he began to say before he caught Keiko's perplexed look. "Uhh… that's right!"

_Uremeshi, you sly punk! _

"Are you okay?" the school girl asked. Fuming silently, Kuwabara nodded with a goofy smile on his face.

"Uh-huh," said Kuwabara, not very reassuringly.

Keiko raised an eyebrow, "Well, alright, I've got to go. Natsuko said she needed my help with something."

"Right," Kuwabara confirmed, "I have to go too. Kirishima, Okubo, and I are gonna go play baseball. See you at the _matsuri_."

The school girl smiled mischievously, "How do you know I'm going to tell Yusuke 'yes?'"

"Because I know how you strange people work," Kuwabara murmured, but then said so Keiko could hear, "I don't, but I can hope for the best can't I?"

---


	4. Seduction at its best

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter four

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

Hasu, while not a cruel girl, wasn't a genial one either. Natural leadership occasionally descended upon her shoulders and--unlike Nakita's "friend" Moeko--she did not wield the power of manipulation, which often came with such leadership, to serve only her needs.

However, she was also incredibly delusional. She saw herself as the sole medium of justice in a world of nothing but black and white. She fought for light, love, justice and any other cliché one can find in a wholesome box of heroism. Through the laws of Good versus Evil, she was required to save a princess in which she would inevitably marry and live happily ever after. She is the--trademarked, naturally--Warrior of Justice.

"Moeko," said the blonde girl, leaning over the counter to peer down at her dark and evil enemy. The dark-haired teen who appeared to have been rifling through boxes, glanced up. And groaned.

"Listen," hissed Hasu when a familiar glare graced Moeko's features.

"No," replied the teen who was now stacking the books she had pulled out of the boxes. If Moeko had to choose a day to hate, Saturday would be the one. Hasu's Saturday declarations of honor and love for her princess, though amusing, generally ended up with Moeko being smote by the hand of Justice.

"Listen, entity of evil," growled the trademarked Warrior of Justice, "I know that we lie on two different sides of morality, but it is in my nature to offer those who have wronged, those who have become wicked, a choice between a tainted life of depravity or a life of decorum and integrity. I need you to help me."

"If you want me to help you with what I think you want help with, then the answer is still no."

Hasu grunted irritably. This particular evil could be exceeding obstinate indeed.

"Do not you care, oh fallen creature? That fair, noble princess, of which I love so dear, has just been fooled, nay, thrust into a most displeasing and hazardous war! War is upon us! Wrought from two dark armies that, in their deep shadows, seek to devour her soul! We must save her! A union between both the dark and the light! You and I! Will you not save our good princess?"

"Nakita is my friend, Hasu," responded Moeko while she glanced around the bookstore. Within the crowded racks of dusty, untouched books, there was not a single person to hear Hasu's harangue of heroics. Which seemed to be of a great pity to the teen as she could not persuade anyone to detain the insane girl, nor provide existence to this phantom Warrior of Justice which her manager laughed about.

"I'd rather her not be 'saved' by a person that manipulates others with ease," continued the annoyed teen. Hasu scowled. This black soul would not be swayed to the joy of light.

"Do not you see the irony of that?" spat she. "Is not that hypocritical of you to say so?"

"Yes," Moeko answered, opening a magazine to read, "But I am not after Nakita's heart. How were club functions today?"

Mentally, Hasu grabbed Moeko by the throat and threw her across the room. This dark enemy's frank answers coupled with casual inquiry drove Hasu's--strangely--usually calm and clear demeanor away only to be replaced with a lurid frenzy.

Or rather, in all honesty: Moeko was a jerk. She could get to people in ways that no other being could. Which was exactly why Hasu needed her for her Noble Quest--which is, mind you, humbly trademarked.

The dark being noticed Hasu's irritation and smiled mockingly, "So, are you going to purchase anything? If not, I'm going to have to ask you to leave as you are loitering."

Hasu, compelled by the power of her heroic forefathers--which had contributed both to her madness and her strength--smote Moeko's face with the fist of Justice.

Justice: One. Evil: Zero.

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Kurama had his own problems to cope with. Alpha Fangirl Seiryoku Geraku had gone against all hope of reason and decided to molest her phone.

"Shuuichi?"

Kurama nearly groaned when he had answered the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hi. It's Geraku Seiryoku. I'm just calling to tell you that Nakita is sick today."

"Oh," mumbled Kurama, a sinking feeling beginning to settle in. There were only two reasons for this sudden affliction. One: either she was telling the truth which would leave him alone with a girl obsessed with him or two: the commencement of informational warfare--so very common among members higher up in the hierarchy of Fangirlism--had begun. That and he'd _still_ be alone with a girl obsessed with him. He was in a no-win situation and not even his clever mind could think of a way to escape.

This--above all other sane or fanciful reasons--was why Kurama hated group projects with such a fiery passion that even Hiei's pyromancy could not compare.

"She should be better on Monday," Seiryoku continued. "So, I don't think we need to worry much."

"Alright then," said Kurama, then asked apprehensively, "and about the project?"

"I think the sooner we start on it the better. We should at the very least start planning it and Nakita can help out later."

They discussed the project for a few more minutes and Kurama agreed to get together at a nearby park. The redhead wondered why a park, but then remembered that he was dealing with an exceedingly disreputable breed of Fangirl. Of course, she'd pretend it was a date and not a project. He said goodbye, hung up the phone, and briefly considered hammering his head against the wall. Consideration complete, he proceeded to try bashing his brains out.

"Shuuichi dear? What is that noise?"

"Nothing, mother," Kurama called out, then muttered, "that's just me… trying to knock myself senseless."

The redhead sighed, gathered his things, put on a light coat, and left. He had an uncanny feeling that he was in the middle of some Murphey's Law exhibition.

The walk to the park was pleasant enough. Chilly, of course, but sunny. It helped calm his nerves and sooth his worry. Though, he did know that this was only the calm before the storm. Once the storm broke, it would hold all beneath it in a state of chaos; the thrall and seduction of forces much greater than themselves.

It took Kurama about a minute and a half to realize that someone was walking atop the low wall beside him. Naturally Kurama assumed that it was a Fangirl, and in his shock, he threw himself haphazardly--and perhaps foolishly--at the street.

Hiei frowned curiously like a stray cat whose just observed a red mouse scamper across the alleyway. It was unlike Kurama to get jumpy or to not immediately recognize his presence.

Kurama stared up at his friend and sighed. Hiei said nothing and watched a car drive insanely past--about sixty miles per hour. The driver had probably been spooked by Kurama's antics.

The redhead got to his feet.

"I think," he murmured softly, brushing dirt from his clothes, "that you may have surprised me."

"I think," mimicked Hiei, "I have done more than that."

The demon's red eyes flickered over towards a flock of girls who--had not Kurama decided to play tag with the road--would not have noticed him and would not be staring at him with hungry, hawk-like eyes. Kurama frowned slightly, miffed at Hiei's arrival and his sudden lack of attention that drew unnecessary gawkers.

"I think," Hiei said, observing the girls and still following the pattern of speech that Kurama set up, "that they desire to eat you."

The crimson haired youth was in no mood for Hiei's twisted sense of humor. And he didn't like that wry smirk he saw on the fire demon's face.

Hiei raised an eyebrow experimentally and fell silent. With little effort he managed to construe the idea that Kurama must be in some whole new level of stress that could not even be paralleled by the past challenges of the Dark Tournament. Not being a licensed psychologist _or_ therapist, he merely stated, "This 'problem' had better not distract you. I won't be watching your back."

Kurama then decided he'd suffered enough of Hiei's presence and countered with, "It seems you're alluding to a new case. However, be careful, Hiei. My 'problem' may become so stressful that I may _accidentally_ let slip some information."

Hiei glowered at him.

"Tell her and you die."

"Yes," conceded Kurama, "but by the time you kill me, she'll already know."

The short demon grunted and left. Probably going to check to make sure no invisible figment of his imagination already told his sister who, exactly, he was. Kurama chuckled to himself at Hiei's expense.

He found Seiryoku waiting for him. She sat on a fairly new park bench dressed in a knee-length skirt, a copious amount of poorly coordinated make-up, loose knee socks, and what looked to be imitation-designer accessories. He caught her attention and she promptly stood up to greet him.

"Hello," she said breathlessly.

"Hello," Kurama responded, raising an eyebrow.

She stared at him expectantly for a moment, a strange and twisted hope brimming about her eyes. She clutched her purse tightly. Kurama felt sick.

This was Seiryoku's first moment alone with Shuuichi. He represented everything that she had ever wanted. A lullaby to calm her fears, a kiss to heal her wound, a smile to lighten her ebony dreams, and a hug to warm her soul. Though, at least this was only what she imagined. And her imagination could get away from her at times. He was an ear to hear her despair, a hand to lift her up, a heart to mend her woes. A gentleman, a boy of good looks and deep unfathomable eyes.

Seiryoku could still remember the time when they first met. Last year, during lunch time, some boys had been making some pretty rude comments over a careless joke she'd made. Seiryoku had blown up at the boys and started yelling at them. They had gotten into a full-scale verbal war and had not Kurama stepped in saying, "I believe, that we cannot judge those who we are not, yes?" the boys may have moved in to physically attack her. To be honest, the Fangirl knew how to defend herself, of course. Her father had made sure of that by paying for her defense lessons. Living in a city makes one wary, but she was sure that the horde of boys could have at least damaged more than her pride.

She had to make this moment go over well. In order to do that, she must not make a fool of herself; she must not prove herself to be the rabid Fangirl she was, nor reveal her willful, vindictive side. Before her stood Shuuichi--Shuuichi, her love! She must restrain herself. She must not act like the hopelessly obsessive crowd she led.

She flung herself at him.

Kurama barely had time to react before she was upon him. Her mouth trying to consume his.

There came a bright flash from behind a bush that he forgot about later. He wouldn't realize that, after this traumatic experience, this flash would start another.

But before he could deal with his trauma, he'd have to fix the catastrophes that seemed to be colliding with each other.

"Oh," said Kurama after Seiryoku finished kissing him.

"Oh," said Nakita, who'd just happened to walking home after just having finished Volunteer Club activities.

"Oh," said Seiryoku, simply because everyone else had.

---

It was a great picture, of course. None of Pan's photos ever turned out horrible. The Chinese-looking girl cradled her camera fondly from behind the bushes and blushed with pleasure, full of a sense of a job well done. Though, the hundred dollar payoff that Seiryoku had given her to get a picture of the Fangirl kissing Shuuichi was also giving her a warm tingly feeling. She chuckled and slunk quietly towards the city.

_Now_, she thought, _time to get the "goods" to the drop-off point. _

---


	5. Alleyway Serenade

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter five

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

Most people who know or who have met Nakita could not fathom the concept that she never seemed to be angry. Ronjiru had a theory about this: Nakita had a whole universe inside her. Ignoring all the obvious fat jokes implied by such a theory, Ronjiru went on to say that whenever Nakita did get angry, she sent it to the beings of her universe. There they would grunt and drag the huge black blocks of anger to a depository--where those blocks spent their entire existence and polluted Nakita's inner universe.

This theory was mostly untrue.

Nakita was humble, self-sacrificing, polite, and generally able to ignore her greatest wishes. Behavior like this always led people to walk all over her. And there was a lot of Nakita, so there was a lot to walk over.

There was a long awkward moment where the primal part of Nakita's brain considered trumpeting like an elephant and stomping the Fangirl to the second dimension. Then her more reasonable, human, mind resurfaced.

"So," she said with the sound of someone who was trying to be enthusiastic while failing miserably. "The project?"

Sensing that the danger had passed, Seiryoku smiled. Kurama was sure his heart exploded. He discreetly checked his pulse.

The Fangirl smiled amiably and took her chance.

"Oh! Oh! Nakita, you're better!"

Kurama resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did she really think he was stupid enough to fall for that? Though, Kurama hardly considered himself stupid, but that was beside the point.

Nakita raised an eyebrow for a moment.

"Er… right."

If possible, Seiryoku's smile widened even further. A satisfied wolf content to play the sheep.

They left and headed toward the large girl's house. Nakita led the way and easily parted the growing crowd on the sidewalks. Seiryoku clutched Kurama's arm. Nakita bit her tongue and marched forward. At some point along the way, the Fangirl commented, perhaps to draw Kurama's attention to Nakita's less than appealing body shape, "It's a good thing you're so large. We'd probably have lost each other in the crowd if it wasn't for your wake."

Unexpectedly, Nakita laughed wholeheartedly and said, "Yes, it's a pity we aren't all as large as I am. Otherwise we could just trudge through and people would dive out of our way for fear of being crushed by we three majesties of weight. We could even play a game called something like 'Fat Versus Thin: The Pancake Game.'" Nakita broke off at this point and murmured thoughtfully, "Actually, pancakes sound pretty good right about now…"

Seiryoku blinked. She didn't know whether to take that as an insult or not. Kurama couldn't decide either, which was a unique phenomenon.

The Fangirl let go of Kurama's arm and stopped.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nakita's smile did not falter as she, too, stopped and faced her seedy companion. Her smile radiated nothing but simple warmth.

"Whatever you want it to I suppose. I'm not you so I can't tell you how to take it."

Now that his leech had finally let go, Kurama folded his arms over his chest, trying to convey the phrase, "Touch me and my Death Tree suddenly finds itself a snack."

The Fangirl frowned thoughtfully. She didn't like Nakita. First and foremost, she was fat. In Seiryoku's often _thin_ opinion, fat people were stupid people because they didn't realize that eating so much made them that way. Had Nakita heard this, she would have responded by asking, in her gentlest, kindest voice, how much could Seiryoku know about fat people and their intelligence when she was, in fact, a thin one. She would have also gone on to say that if thin people knew they were thin, then obviously fat people knew they were fat. It's kind of hard to ignore one's body weight. Especially when one is living with it.

The other reason for Seiryoku's dislike of Nakita was a subconscious one. She _felt_ rivalry. She felt the large girl's desire for Shuuichi--her Shuuichi! As the Alpha of the Fangirl pack, it was she who had to keep the others in line. Everyone could fantasize, so long as she kept it to herself and didn't dare make a move towards him. If they did, Seiryoku would strike her down. Instantly.

Nakita was a terrible enemy in the way that Seiryoku didn't know anything about her and yet somehow subconsciously felt she wouldn't back down.

The girls stared at each other for a long, drawn out minute--perhaps longer. Kurama could feel the growing tension and hard, stubborn determination. Seiryoku's eyes flashed with anger and though Nakita was smiling, looking for all the world like a planet at peace. He could feel her struggling will.

Finally, both looked away. Nakita somehow looked defeated.

"Anyway," began Nakita, "has anyone got any ideas for the project?"

Of course not, Kurama thought silently. It's a school project. We'll sit around awkwardly until something hits us, run with it although we know it is crap, and end up with a good grade anyway because everyone else in the class did the exact same thing.

Nakita's house was rather dumpy-looking. Which was really, thought Kurama, an understatement. It was shoved in-between two other buildings as if someone had realized one day that there was space between them and then decided to hastily plug it up with whatever they could find.

Seiryoku scoffed. Nakita grinned.

If Kurama were a person who often practiced self-pity, he'd have thought, _why me?_

---

There came a crackling noise.

"At first, we never intended to stalk him. We are lowly in our order. We have no right to stick our noses in business that should be left to those more experienced than we."

Autumn rain thundered down and the crackling noise continued as an object was passed between two tanned hands.

"But then we heard the rumors."

Crackle.

"Of course, we didn't _believe _them. No. That'd be heresy. But over the next couple of weeks we'd noticed that they _did_ hang out with each other a lot. So we got concerned--worried even. Heresy or not, we have a mission to accomplish."

Rustle. Pass. Crackle.

"Our mission: Stalk Yusuke Urameshi in order to recover information on whether or not he's Shuuichi's gay lover."

Three girls stood under the eaves of a nearby building, talking into a tape recorder. One wore black from head to toe and had tied her brown hair into a braid. The other wore a large yellow raincoat and was scowling at something across the street. The last wore a mess of sweatpants and sweatshirts. If they hadn't a common goal, they'd be bitter enemies.

"But why _Yusuke_ of all people?" whined the girl into the tape recorder. Her sweatshirts were soaked. "Haven't you heard what they _say_ about him?"

"He's street trash," said the blonde in the raincoat, "with a reputation."

"A common thug with an uncommon skill in martial arts," muttered the girl in black.

"A demon," said the girl with the tape recorder.

"An assassin," commented the blonde.

"Lovechild of evil," confirmed brunette.

The girls nodded to themselves. They were Fangirls, of course, but they were on the bottom of its hierarchy. Freshman girls with an eye for Shuuichi who had not yet truly joined the enormous Fangirl horde. Rouge Fangirls--parasites on the body of a terrific beast.

On the opposite side of the street was an arcade they had seen Shuuichi's secret lover stride into. Determined to catch him on a date with Shuuichi, they figured that when he left it, the redhead would accompany him. So they waited, shivering in the cold and snapping at each other. It had been about an hour before they were fully prepared to storm the place.

As if on cue, Yusuke walked out. He was followed by a tall orange-haired boy. They seemed to be talking about something.

"Maybe he's going out with _him_," suggested the brunette.

"Maybe he's cheating on poor Shuuichi!"

"Maybe he's just going somewhere with a friend," commented the blonde. She was the most realistic of the three Fangirls.

In the end, they discarded that idea. The girls were convinced--through some type of great scientific process--that the dark-haired boy was somehow wronging Kurama.

The girls liked to think that they were skilled in stealth. They made sure to stay behind a group of people while observing the boys from the other side of the street.

It hadn't been the first time Yusuke and Kuwabara had been stalked--usually by their enemies--but it was remarkably noticeable when three girls jumped nervously behind people whenever they looked in their direction. Several minutes passed in silence before Kuwabara sighed.

"I wonder what they want."

"Not a date, I'll tell you that," grumbled Yusuke. "They've been following me since before I went to the arcade. They're wearing some pretty ugly scowls."

The taller teen nodded and watched a girl from a corner of his eye. She held an object up to her lips and started talking to it like a trusted friend.

"They're not demons," he noted. Yusuke nodded.

"Think we should give them the slip? Human or not, I don't appreciate it when people follow me _uninvited._"

Kuwabara inclined his head.

The boys took off. The girls sprinted after them.

The brunette grumbled, hitching up her long skirts so she didn't trip over them.

"Why on _earth_ I chose to wear skirts today…"

Buildings flew past as people dove out of the way in face of three girls on a mission. Three girls on a mission is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. The power of three, multiplied by obsession and rumor, unfolds all those annoying _realistic_ things like manners and traffic rules.

The rain ceased as the boys ran into an alley and promptly disappeared leaving the girls panting and bewildered. The alleyway was clear even if the sky was obscured with oppressive gray clouds. Only dumpsters, trashcans, and dirty newspapers otherwise littered the path. The blonde blinked.

"Mika? You're in choir right?"

The girl in sweatpants nodded.

"Hit your highest note."

"Yes, Saeko."

It wasn't widely known, but Mika was a human weapon. With a voice like hers, anything within earshot would bolt away in a mad frenzy, and would tear apart any fellow escapee that impeded their flight. Over the years she'd gone to choir lessons in hope of improving her voice, but a very curious thing happened. Instead of getting better, her voice got _worse_. There would come a time a few years later in Mika's life where she would be accused of purposely causing earthquakes by singing. This couldn't be proven, of course, but it did give what was to be Mika's construction company a very healthy sum of money.

Saeko and the brunette covered their ears as Mika launched into song. It was a song that had been written by Mika, and had it been sung by anyone but her, it would have sounded beautiful. However, as things were, so many variations of mangled notes and wretched noises that even bats would be unable to hear were expelled from Mika's powerful lungs and mercilessly assaulted the unprotected ears of those nearby.

An awful howling and bellowing--which was like classical music compared to Mika's voice--came from behind a few trashcans beneath a fire escape.

Saeko and Mika kicked aside the cans to reveal two crouching boys.

Shuuichi's secret lover turned to the other and said, "Told you."

The taller boy retorted, "Next time we dive behind some trashcans to avoid some girls, I'll be sure to bring us some earmuffs as a defense. I'll let you borrow Shizuru's. They're pink."

Yusuke scowled.

The brunette accosted Yusuke, "Are you sleeping with Shuuichi?"

There's a little something in this world called being unobtrusive and indirect, which is otherwise known as _tact_. This girl clearly lacked in this aspect of higher communication.

Both Yusuke and Kuwabara goggled at the girl.

"_Please_ answer!" said the girl in her most desperate and urgent voice. "We need to know!"

There comes a time in every person's life where there is a moment of tension. These times are usually recognized by the fact that they are strange, unexpected, and more importantly, uncomfortable. And they never provide the right answers.

"No?" answered Yusuke, confused. It appeared to him that whatever answer he might provide to these short, warlike girls, they would immediately shoot it down.

"Liar!" yelled the blonde. Yusuke's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"Two-timer!" exclaimed Mika. The boys winced. Kuwabara was sure one of his ears was bleeding.

The brunette sized up Kuwabara then turned back to Yusuke. "What's the matter? Not getting enough from Shuuichi?"

There also comes a time in everyone's life where one's brain completely ceases to function.

The boys stared at each other while the girls' eyes glittered dangerously. The muscles in Yusuke's face died completely as he continued to stare blankly. His mind spun off into the land of no return. Kuwabara finally reacted.

"Oh," he said. It was the type of expression that seemed to go on forever as if signifying that its owner was coming to realize what exactly had been said. It was the type of "Oh" that sounded like a moaning cow. Or at least the type of cow who said "Oh" in the face of slaughter.

"He has a girlfriend," he tried to explain.

Yusuke's mind found itself as Kuwabara said this and he snapped, "Keiko is not my girlfriend! She's just a friend!"

"Who's _going _to be your girlfriend as soon as you're man enough to actually _ask _her."

The girls' eyes widened.

"You're _three_-timing!"

"I am _not!_"

"Are too! What do you call sleeping with Shuuichi, this guy, _and_ your girlfriend, all at the same time?"

"One hell of a party."

This time it was the girls' turn to stare.

"_What?"_

Yusuke scratched his head, "How else was I supposed to answer that? I'm not going out with Shuuichi. I'm not going out with Kuwabara. And I haven't even asked the girl I like if _she'll_ go out with me. Any time I tell you you've got it wrong, you just make it worse."

They stared at him, stubborn and unblinking.

"Yoshiko?"

The brunette turned to fact the entrance of the alleyway to see an Asian-looking girl.

"Pan?"

The girl nodded, silently. She had been on her way to meet the school newspaper editing staff on Seiryoku's orders. Her eyes traveled from Yoshiko to the boys, to the other girls, and then back to Yoshiko.

"What's going on?"

Saeko shoved Yusuke's shoulder, "We're liberating Shuuichi from the wicked claws of his three-timing boyfriend!"

Yusuke pitched a trashcan at her.

"I'm not dating anyone!" he raged. "Especially not my friends!"

Kuwabara physically restrained his friend when he tried to kick a small black alley cat.

"Stop," he growled, ready to knock Yusuke's head off if he dared to attack a cat again. Yusuke continued to assault inanimate objects as the girls watched, bemused.

"_He's_ with Shuuichi?" Pan blinked, then smiled. To this point in her life, Pan had never had an interest in boys or girls. This being the case, she saw the world free of attachments. She was, however, a wicked girl whose hobby was toying with other people's emotions.

"I think Shuuichi is cheating on you," Pan told Yusuke--drawing the same misconception the rogue Fangirls had. She took out a copy of the picture she'd taken that afternoon and held it out to him. Confused, angry, stressed, and fuming, Yusuke plucked the photo from her hand. One glance later he was completely floored. Kuwabara felt the same way when he leaned over Yusuke's shoulder to look.

The blonde gently tugged the photo from the black-haired teen's hand. She gasped.

"No way!"

She passed it to the other two girls. Saeko turned to Yusuke and tenderly patted his arm.

"I'm sorry. I know we haven't known each other very long," she shook her head sagely, "but no one, not even you, deserves to be hurt like this."

Still angry, still confused, and now slightly shocked, Kuwabara noticed that Yusuke seemed ready to spirit gun the hell out of the next object that more or less implied that he has a relationship with anything.

Each girl gave her deepest and most heartfelt condolences to Yusuke. Now that the effect of the power of three had disappeared with the arrival of Pan, reality--meaning the place where Yusuke can enjoy sanity and drivers don't have to worry about maniac girls appearing out of nowhere--could restore itself. The rogue Fangirls left and Pan looked the boys up and down again.

"You can keep the picture. I have copies that I'm going to submit to the school newspaper," she said, grinning. "It'll help you justify breaking up with him."

Pan met a rather painful fate. Yusuke's fist sailed into Pan's stomach.

"Urameshi!" yelped Kuwabara, aghast as he watched Pan soar through the air inelegantly.

"Don't worry," mumbled Yusuke, miffed. "I didn't break any bones."

Kuwabara was going to inform Yusuke that he was missing the point and it was the principle of the act, but he decided against it and asked, "So… when are you going to ask her?"

Yusuke started to pummel Kuwabara. The orange-haired boy laughed and cuffed his friend around the ear. Passers-by stared as they scurried past.

When they were finished, Yusuke turned to Kuwabara, picture in hand.

"Normally I couldn't care less what Kurama does with girls in his free time, but now that his problems have become _our_ problems, we need to do something."

Kuwabara nodded.

This was the source, he told himself. The source of the ill-winds and ghostly revolution. The terrible evil; the great power. He gritted his teeth and sighed.

_Fangirls…_

---

"Botan."

The ferry girl jumped. Slowly, she turned around and there, standing almost innocently, was Keiko. She was dressed in casual, non-menacing clothes, but somehow the blue-haired girl couldn't help but feel intimidated. The game was up. She'd found her. Caught downtown right after the rain left her in a very frightening predicament. The glaringly tall buildings belittled her even more as if Keiko's presence had them under her command.

Botan felt a cold shock of fear jolt through her as she watched Keiko smile, give a small wave, and take a step towards her. She shivered. An imminent peril approached in the guise of a human-shaped schoolgirl. Keiko had some uncanny ability to locate people who didn't want to be found. Botan knew that the end of her existence would someday come, but she had hoped that it would have come later. It was time to face fate.

As the expression goes, Botan was between a rock and a hard place. While Botan didn't really like to use that expression because she firmly believed that a rock and a hard place were practically the same thing, she at least understood the metaphor.

"Oh, hello Keiko!" exclaimed the ferry girl with false cheer.

The schoolgirl glanced at the store window that they happened to be standing in front of. In the display, posing mannequins were dressed in colorful shawls and European dresses. Keiko planted her hands firmly on her hips. The blue-haired girl knew what she was going to ask. And she winced.

"I saw you talking with one of Yusuke's friends. The short one. And I've noticed that Yusuke's been acting weird lately. Is he on another mission? If he is, you can tell me."

Botan blinked. Oh, snap! Keiko had seen her telling Hiei about Yusuke's next case. Though case wasn't the word Botan would use because it mostly detailed kicking around a few stray demons in the area that were causing trouble. No harm really. Could probably done in less than an hour if the whole team working on the mission.

The ferry girl blinked. But she told Hiei early that afternoon and that was nearly two hours ago. How long had Keiko been following her?

It was then that Botan come across the strange suspicion that there was more to Keiko than met the eye.

The schoolgirl stared at her unnervingly as Botan twiddled her thumbs.

"Yes," she answered truthfully after a few long moments, "but it's not like the last one."

Keiko nodded.

"Good," she said curtly, surprising Botan. "At least someone here is capable of telling the truth."

The brown-haired girl had noticed the way Kuwabara had fumbled with his words and the way he had acted. She knew that whenever anything awkward happened, it was usually because Yusuke didn't want her to know something. And that something usually meant that he was about to run off and complete a case without telling her. He also tended to avoid her at times like these, which he was doing now.

But if it was as a simple case as Botan said it was, what could possibly cause Yusuke and Kuwabara to act so awkwardly around her?

Determined to get to the bottom of it, she made up her mind to get it out of Yusuke tomorrow at the _matsuri_.

She spent the rest of the day with Botan window-shopping and talking about various things until the ferry girl had to return to work. Botan was happy that Keiko wasn't about to get scary on her like she and Shizuru had before the Dark Tournament. What a relief! It was then Botan realized that she had been worried for nothing. Next time she would even be sure to spare some time to tell Keiko about the next case too. That is, if Koenma would allow it. She left Keiko on a happy note, waving a cheerful goodbye. She'd also winked and said that she'd smack Yusuke over the head with her oar if he didn't start being direct with her.

When she was gone, Keiko reflected as she walked home. She liked Botan. She was a really good friend, but the school girl suspected something unknown to her was going on between them. What if they…?

No. Of course not.

Keiko walked down the sidewalk, free of the usual crowds at this time of day, and glanced at the sky wondering: _Why are there so many clouds? _

---


	6. Catch 22

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter six

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

A star is a glittering eye that watches over the universe perpetually. Its crystal gaze cuts through the night and out-squints the sun. A sun will never see a planet as it really is: a sun is a queen among her subjects and the planets follow her every move. She is golden and radiant in the planets' adoration. The moon, too, will never see a planet as it really is. It revolves around it, infatuated, watching with cold, hopeful eyes as the planet's seas sparkle or as the jade green forests sway, never seeing, never learning.

But a star isn't like that. A star is an eye that never blinks and is destined to watch over the universe forever. The sky is studded with a thousand crystal eyes that stare down and see nothing but the truth.

"You okay, Kurama?"

The redhead shivered, dressed in a warm brown jacket worn over a green long-sleeved shirt, and turned his gaze from the sky to the boy approaching him. He was wearing a jean jacket that looked a size too small and under it wore a t-shirt that Kurama knew was a size too big. Even his pants looked ill-fitting. It was the look shared by unprepared boys everywhere when just embarking on the relation ship.

Kurama frowned when he realized he'd made a rather stupid pun.

"Yusuke," he said, "I heard that you were with Keiko. Where is she?"

It was Sunday, the day after Kurama's traumatic experience with Seiryoku's kiss and the project. The redhead stood in front of a high white fence that marked the entrance to the _matsuri_. Behind him an excessive mass of balloons loomed threateningly as a teenaged boy got lost somewhere within. The noise of people enjoying themselves was ferocious like a toothache made of sound.

The shorter teen gave a one-shouldered shrug and a look that, if Yusuke paid more attention in history class, said, "I'm the Spanish Inquisition, yo. And I've got a question." But the boy didn't say anything. Yusuke created the type of silences that were as loud as colliding planets. It was one of his more unique abilities. It was also the kind of thing that drove a person mad. Especially when Yusuke had a question and wasn't asking.

The teen sidled up next to the redhead and leaned against the fence. A thoughtful expression sat on his face, as if he'd come across a problem he wasn't quite sure how to solve. Which was odd since Yusuke usually punched the crap out of a problem until it cried, crawled away, and solved itself.

The younger teen folded his arms over his chest and stared at the food vendor across from them. Kurama watched Yusuke from the corner of his eye. The silence was becoming disturbing. Kurama broke it.

"Hiei alluded to a new case. I assumed Botan's told you the details."

Yusuke shrugged again and mumbled, "Something about some low-class demons 'emfiltroting' human world and how we need to kick 'em out."

"Infiltrating, I think."

"Huh?"

"Infiltrating, not 'emfiltroting.'"

"Whatever," he muttered. His eyes flickered over towards the colorful crowds gathered around a rather amusing display of balloons that performers wore in rather embarrassing places.

"I thought you weren't coming to the _matsuri_."

"I never said I wouldn't," murmured Kurama.

"I get the impression you don't like crowds."

"I don't," the redhead stated simply. "Mother wanted to come with the man she's been seeing."

The shorter youth raised an eyebrow, "And you came--what?--to see if he's okay."

"It sounds… protective; I know."

Yusuke understood; he nodded, "But she's your mother."

The spirit detective sighed and rummaged through his pockets. Somewhere, a violin player decided it might be fun to start playing a low and ominous melody. Elsewhere, music critics decided it might be fun to start killing bad musicians instead of just critiquing them.

The boy withdrew something from a pocket and flicked it at Kurama. He made a vulgar gesture with his hand.

"So you didn't come with your girlfriend?"

Looking at the photo, Kurama's eyes nearly bugged out as he quickly assessed the situation.

"Ah," he said.

Yusuke watched his friend impassively, waiting for him to explain. He was sure there was more to this circumstance than he was able to see. Never for a moment did he believe that Kurama was actually going out with the girl in the picture--in the photo it was obvious that he was pulling away from her--but with blackmail like this on his hands, he couldn't help but purposely misconstrue the information. If not only because it'll get his friend to take his next words seriously.

"Yesterday, I was almost mugged by _your_ flaky Fangirls," he told Kurama. The redhead would have snickered, if he had he not known how severe an encounter like that truly was. Yusuke continued: "_They_ thought that you and me had a _thing_ together. Then some Chinese-lookin' girl popped out of nowhere, shoved this picture in my face, and said that you were probably two-timing me."

Here, Yusuke paused to reflect upon the word "two-timing." He recovered.

"Listen, I don't care how you manage your relationships; I just don't want them to interfere with _mine_."

Kurama brushed the hair away from his face and pocketed the photo. He noted it was a Polaroid.

"The girl who gave you this, did she have a name?"

"Pain, I think. I wasn't really paying attention."

"You mean Pan?"

Yusuke shrugged, "Yeah, sure. If you ask me, 'Pain' suits her better. She's a real pain-in-the--"

"Thanks, Yusuke."

Two words passed through Kurama's mind. Pan and Polaroid. Sparked by those two words were a thousand horrible scenarios created within Kurama's petrified imagination.

Normally these two words shouldn't inspire fear or paranoia in anyone; however, it should be known that those words have a special meaning for the students of Meiou Private Academy. Pan was a girl with a Polaroid camera and all your secrets were hers, and once they were hers, they were the whole school's. She was none other than the school newspaper's finest, and only, photographer.

Kurama sighed and rubbed his forehead.

Yusuke seemed to sympathize. "You know I really don't think you have a girlfriend, right?"

"Oh, yes," said Kurama, "It was a good ploy, but you should've asked about my being here after you accused me of having a girlfriend. It would have been more confrontational and unpredictable. Which may have caused me to misread your ploy and think that you were actually being serious. And, if I'm not mistaken, you were planning on using this photo as future blackmail."

The dark-haired teen chuckled to himself, "You manipulative bastard."

"I'll take care of my--and your--Fangirl problem," said Kurama. He then pointed towards a group of people, "I think Keiko and Kuwabara are looking for you. I'm going to go find my mother."

Yusuke watched as Kurama stalked off. If possible, the spirit detective thought his friend seemed calm enough but couldn't help feel as though he was angry in some way.

Which was rather disconcerting. An angry Kurama was something he was sure the world couldn't deal with.

"Hey, Urameshi, why'd you run off?"

Yusuke turned to face the tall orange-haired boy who was advancing on him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and showed his teeth, "I ran from your ugly face."

Kuwabara briefly observed the fleeing Kurama and returned his attention to Yusuke.

"Oh yeah?" he asked and showed a fist. "Well, how about I make you as pretty as I am then?"

"You can _try_," goaded Yusuke.

Keiko sighed and slapped them both.

"Stop it," she told them when they whimpered. "Come on, there's still a lot more to do."

She took Yusuke's arm, "Or at least for me. I can have fun watching you guys lose at all the festival games."

There is a universal difference that exists between men and women. There is absolutely no point in denying the fact that men and women are different from each other and not just by physical appearance. When a woman's pride is in jeopardy, she holds onto it and fights tooth and nail against those who aim to take it. A man, however, is different. He dangles his pride in front of his foes and dares them to take it, laughing as those enemies trip over themselves

"Hah," said Yusuke. "Just you see. I bet I can win more games than Kuwabara can."

"We'll see about that, you punk."

The boys bickered and threatened and boasted to each other.

Keiko smiled and rolled her eyes.

_Boys. _

---

"And I know I shouldn't be angry, and I know I shouldn't be jealous, but it just made me so upset to see Shuuichi already had a girlfriend and I never knew."

Glumly, Nakita picked at her ramen noodles. Moeko nodded to herself and surveyed her surroundings with rapt attention. She was always on the lookout for disturbances, perilous-looking strangers, and things out-of-the-ordinary. That way, she'd be prepared when she needed to run like mad.

It was a maze of twisting, winding streets with rows of vendors, festival games, entertainment, and all sorts of curious temporary structures and distractions that seemed never-ending. Crowds of people stood in queues around the vendors. Paper lanterns swayed gently in the chilly breeze, their light mingling with the strange shadows and second-rate decorations. Children ran underfoot occasionally causing a hapless adult to trip or a teenaged couple to spill food on each other. Laughter was everywhere and hundreds of feet pounded on the tired, red brick below.

Moeko was eyeing people with particularly bulky clothing. Nakita scowled at her noodles, leaned over the counter, and shifted uneasily on her red vinyl stool. They were seated at a sit-down noodle house located right in the middle of the _matsuri_.

The fat girl sighed heavily, "I mean, Seiryoku and Shuuichi? Together? I was hoping that through the project maybe Shuuichi and I could become friends. Was that too ambitious? Was I trying to be manipulative? Does that make me a horrible person?"

Nakita pouted at her noodles.

Moeko, who is certainly not qualified to give advice, let alone good advice, had this to say: "I don't think you could be manipulative even if you actually tried."

The amber-haired girl wiped her mouth on a napkin. She perked up.

"What makes you say that, dear?" she asked, fluttering her eyes and giving a flirtatious smile. "I'll have you know I make a fine manipulator."

Moeko gave a wry smile and wrapped an arm around her friend, "Oh, love," she said, "what seductive charm you have! May I never have to look away so that I may gaze upon thee forever."

They giggled together.

"Alas," murmured Nakita melodramatically and twirled a tendril of hair, "our love shall never be, for if you've ever read any type of romance novel you'd know that _all_ love that is forbidden love is inherently true love. And true love only comes about if you've got one of those horrible past thingies. If our forbidden love is going to work, one of us has got to get into an abusive relationship and the other has to be all cool and rescue the other."

"Does one of us die?" inquired Moeko. "There's always a tragic death scene."

"You, I think," Nakita answered. "You're always going around making sour faces and sneering at people. Clearly the one that lives is the one who has makeover potential. Always. I guarantee it."

Moeko looked mildly scandalized, "I don't have makeover potential?"

"I'm afraid not. See, the way it goes is that the cheerful and charming fat girl outlives the scrawny, sarcastic girl because when the nuclear war breaks out and we all live underground without food because of it, the fat girl eats everyone else so she's the only one left. If no one's left, then that makes her the prettiest one."

"So our conversation topic crosses from the romance genre to the awfully deranged horror genre?"

"Something like that."

Moeko couldn't finish her noodles, so Nakita ate them as well as the bowl she already started on. When she finished, she frowned at the bottom of her bowl.

"How'd the project go?"

The large girl sighed.

"Pretty badly. We barely got anything done. The whole experience mostly consisted of all of us staring awkwardly at the tray of cookies my mother baked earlier with one or two suggestions thrown into the air. We eventually decided that, since Seiryoku and Shuuichi have the same study period, they'd work on it then. And then I could come help in at lunch and after school. Which is good. I don't think there are any club activities next week, so hopefully I can see Shuuichi a lot."

Moeko used a pale hand to stir the ice in her glass of soda with a straw. She found a lot of what Nakita had told her about Seiryoku and Shuuichi suspicious. True, she didn't know much about either of them, but something didn't feel quite right. She remembered, vaguely, that there had been an announcement about the debate team and Seiryoku had been in it. And she remembered the way that Shuuichi had slunk through the lunchroom, taking painstaking precaution to not be seen by any Fangirls. In fact, if Moeko remembered correctly, Seiryoku _was_ a Fangirl. After having reviewed the evidence, the dark-haired girl decided that a boy who avoided Fangirls couldn't possibly want to date one. Something here wasn't quite right.

"Maybe you can steal Shuuichi from Seiryoku," she suggested.

"No! I couldn't do that! That's mean and it would make me a horrible person if I'm not one already!"

"You don't seriously believe you're a horrible person do you?"

Nakita considered it.

"No," she admitted. "But stealing someone's boyfriend is a horrible thing to do. I could never do it."

"Other people do."

"No, people are better than that. We have to be."

"People will never be better than they have ever been."

"True," shrugged Nakita, "but have they ever tried?"

In the crowd, a shock of red hair caught Moeko's exceedingly paranoid attention.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'll be right back."

---

Disturbing shadows moved across the firelight. They moved in groups, slowly, like wolves creeping towards the kill. Frantic, fitful, multi-hued light raced over gruesome faces, all marred with the same hungry, lurid expression.

Someone's lips parted, "I saw them, yesterday, kissing."

The whole _matsuri_ population surged past, careful to avoid them. No one would bother them; no one would touch them. No one would even see them. No one ever saw what they didn't want to see. And a pack of Fangirls in the middle of declaring rebellion was certainly something no one ever saw if they knew what was good for them. They were nightmares in a human husk, stalking the night, ready to tear out the souls of those who disagreed with them.

Another voice grumbled, "I don't see anything wrong with _that_. Better her than someone else."

A bubble of silence surrounded the pack. The night's earlier wind was had stilled, though the paper lanterns still swayed as if repelled by the sheer madness of the earthbound Fangirls. The light dimmed whenever they were around, wherever they walked. Passers-by, refusing to see them, slid by and fell silent, deep in thought. Children refused to run in their direction. Insects scampered, spiders fled, and stars watched.

"It's the principle of the thing," explained the first Fangirl. "Seiryoku is our great and noble leader. We could have no greater honor than to serve her. But power corrupts. Have you not noticed the way she's changed?"

If the Fangirls had considered the question honestly, they would have said, "No, not really." Seiryoku was bound and acted in only the strictest of the Fangirlian laws. Where the word "Fangirlian" had come from, only Seiryoku knew, but the Fangirls weren't about to doubt her credibility. However, all Fangirls are suspicious of each other and would never trust another girl to her beloved. In fact, as soon as the words "power corrupts" oozed into their ears, each individual member of the Fangirl pack was ready to oust their leader. This is what happens when the mindless begin to think.

There was a sudden epiphany.

"She tackled him on Thursday. Shuuichi is our sacred idol, but she jumped him like he was some kind of horse. I don't know about you, but I think she's lost her respect. Shuuichi's a human being, not a horse."

There was a pause of embarrassed silence as the Fangirls considered the eerie statement. A human being? Was their perfect, beautiful lust object _really _just _human?_ But before the thought could spark further inspiration, the speaker continued.

"Therefore, he should be jumped on as _if_ he's human."

And then Shuuichi became a god in their eyes, once again.

Protests against Seiryoku continued to rise, "She attacks anyone who gets close to him like he's her possession. That's wrong; he doesn't belong to anyone."

There was another embarrassing pause and another moment of doubt.

"He belongs to all of us."

And then there was faith again.

"Well that's it then," announced the first speaker. "Our queen is corrupt. We have no choice but to sabotage her. You know, for her own good."

The Fangirls murmured amongst themselves. If the Alpha Fangirl _truly_ was corrupt then it was their job, no, their _duty_ to protect Shuuichi from her foul advances. It was divine obligation, holy retribution, and above all…

…Jealousy.

"Man, she's going down."

"Hey, is that Shuuichi? Why's he running?"

The pack of Fangirls turned and squealed.

"Squee!"

---

It was true that Kurama's mother was on a date with her boyfriend, so the redhead had endeavored to leave them alone. Kurama was sure that his mother had only brought him along because she was worried her relationship might bother him. He'd told his mother he didn't have a problem with him and that it was okay, but he was sure that she worried nonetheless. Parents tend to do that.

The wind was reborn and raced again as Kurama stalked through the teeming, garish streets, candy-colored streamers gliding through the dark night overhead. He absentmindedly stripped a streamer out of his hair as he frowned at the photo in his hand. This was going to be tricky. If this really was a Pan photo, then he could be guaranteed that it was going to be in the school paper.

Unlike almost all high school students, Kurama actually read the paper. Usually, he liked to correct the asinine punctuation and grammar errors that made it through the paper's shoddy editing process. Sometimes, even, he'd laugh at a severe spelling mistake.

This was all, mostly, because Kurama was a literary nerd.

However, he also paid attention to what the articles were actually saying. If there was anything he learned from the newspaper, it was that any article accompanying Pan's photographs would instantly demolish a person. Kurama gritted his teeth. He'd been Youko Kurama for three hundred years. Reputation was everything.

He paused and stared briefly at a trashcan beside him. He was going to have to take care of this problem. Quickly. Kurama's hand gently tossed the picture towards the trash, but the wind snatched it away. Alarmed, the redhead dove after it.

"Excuse me."

He looked up to find a pointy-nosed girl with a bruise on her face staring down at him. Her foot was on the edge of the photo. She knelt and picked it up. She glanced at the picture.

"This is a Polaroid," she observed.

An expression of mixed horror and surprise crossed Kurama's features. Was she a Fangirl? He stood up, rather hastily.

"If you don't mind," he said levelly, "I'd like that back."

"Yes, I expect you would," murmured Moeko. "This is a Pan photo, isn't it."

"I doubt you can tell just by quality," Kurama responded dryly.

"Yes," answered the girl. "The only real reason I know is because no one walks around public with pictures of themselves in less than… decent circumstances. This is either blackmail or a Pan photograph. Do you know when it'll appear in the school paper?"

The green-eyed teenager was perplexed.

"Monday, I think. They print late on Sunday. Why?"

"Do you know where they print?"

"They take it to the print shop on Cherry Street."

Kurama watched the girl nod to herself as if she was thinking something important. It was an awkward situation especially considering he didn't know who the girl was or what she wanted with him. He had just been about to ask whether or not she was going to give the picture back when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Kurama," it said, obviously not caring for the redhead's human name. "The detective wants us, let's go."

The green-eyed teenager turned to find Hiei, his dark clothes contrasting sharply against the crowds. Once again, Kurama's astute mind picked up on the subtle nuances of timing, events, and people. He formed a basic conjecture: Yusuke ran into some of those low-class demons while with Keiko and Kuwabara. For some reason, Hiei was there, probably because he'd sensed the demons. Yusuke tells Hiei to get him because there was some unexpected crisis with the low-class demons. That was all he could assume until he got to wherever the crisis was.

Moeko was perturbed. She hadn't even seen the strange boy walk up behind Shuuichi. What was even more disconcerting were his red eyes. They made her want to flee.

Kurama hesitated visibly. He was torn between Moeko, who still had the picture, and Hiei. The fire demon folded his arms over his chest, scowled at the scrawny girl, and glared at Kurama as if implying that the redhead had better things to do than to deal with insignificant girls.

The dark-haired girl determined that Shuuichi was probably going to be dragged off, willingly or not, by this perilous-looking stranger, so she chose her next words carefully and quickly.

"Look, Shuuichi, I _don't_ like you."

Kurama smiled wryly. Moeko continued.

"But I have friend who does. So I want to make a deal with you."

"It's not one of those deals where you do something for me and I go out with your best friend is it?" inquired Kurama. He didn't believe in making deals he couldn't weasel out of.

Moeko held up the picture.

"Here's the deal: I'll take care of your newspaper problem and you treat Nakita as a human being and not just another annoying Fangirl."

Suddenly Kurama had an idea of who he was talking to. He berated himself for not recognizing her before. Nakita's best friend, Moeko, of course. However, he didn't know anything about her other than she always failed most of the tests in their biology class. He sat behind her.

Hiei's impatience was almost tangible. Kurama risked another question.

"How will you fix the paper?"

Moeko found, to her greatest regret, that her only resource was Ronjiru. Inwardly, she groaned.

"I know a guy who specializes in covert operations," she lied.

Hiei was still glaring at Kurama and the redhead could almost imagine him tapping his foot impatiently, tugging his sleeve, pointing at a watch, and saying, "We don't have the time for this. Let's _go_."

Kurama's eyebrow twitched.

He asked, "What if I don't keep my end of the deal?"

Moeko didn't answer, she merely pocketed the photo.

"I see. It's a deal then. You can stop fidgeting now, Hiei. We're going."

Kurama gave Moeko a hard, searching look before the two disappeared effortlessly into the crowds like they had just melted into the blend of obnoxious colors and cheap decorations. Kurama cursed the fact he'd just made a deal he wasn't sure the girl on the other end could keep. He also wondered what kind of problem Yusuke had run into and if he had to ditch poor Keiko to do it. If he did, he was probably going to catch hell for it.

This thought amused him until he heard an eerie cry.

"Squee!"

He ran faster.

Overhead, the stars' crystal gazes still watched, and if the universe had ears, it would have heard a laugh.

---


	7. Hide and Seek

**The Terrible Enemy**

Chapter seven

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

---

The world is full of chaos. It exists as a spider carefully weaving a web of intricate non-related incidents that, when control completely breaks, the strings of events snap and traps people in a cage of silver strings stronger than anything in the world. Chaos isn't random. It's meticulously planned event after event until so many non-related events become related because somebody took a step back to actually look at the strings and notice the web. But by then it's already too late: the web of chaos has caught another one--and the spider feeds.

It had been a nice night, Keiko reflected. That is until all that screaming happened. In fact, in the thirty minutes after they had left the redheaded boy, the evening could have been called lovely. Yusuke and Kuwabara had played a festival game and throughout the entire thing the boys had exchanged a series of coded hand gestures and untranslatable glares. Keiko didn't know why. It was probably a boy thing.

By the end of the game the coded gestures and untranslatable glares had grown quite wild. Kuwabara had won the game and was laughing. However, Kuwabara laughing, especially when he's trying to be quiet about it, is an event in and of itself. It's quite possible that Kuwabara is scientifically incapable of laughing quietly--or at least without someone's notice. He probably would have burst a lung trying.

He had stopped for a moment when they were prowling the festival grounds again looking for another game and stared solemnly at Yusuke. He leaned over and managed to whisper something around the location of his friend's ear. Then the tall boy tried to dash away--which is another event in itself seeing as it required _other _people to move away rather than needing Kuwabara to move in-between--laughing his head off. Yusuke's shoe hit him on the back of the head.

But the night was chilly and the wind was cold, so Yusuke quickly retrieved his shoe. He did not find Kuwabara. Of _course_ he'd be gone, the dark-haired boy knew. If Kuwabara knew what was good for him, of course he'd be gone.

From there Yusuke began to steer Keiko and himself away from the crowds. Away from the swinging lanterns and away from the smells and sounds of the _matsuri_.

They found themselves on a lane where only two other people, about twenty feet away, sat on a bench. The streetlights had been aglow and the moon had been a ghostly silver disk above the trees. Walls of stone and mortar, about the height of a very tall man, stretched down the street.

The dark-haired boy leaned against a wall and the brown-haired girl watched him, somehow unable to look at him sternly.

"So," said the boy, looking at the girl's shoe.

"So," said the girl, leaning on the streetlight, directly in front of the boy. The brick to Yusuke's immediate left was particularly interesting.

And this is it. This is the moment that all the shy glances, nagging, caring, arguing, and feeling led up to. This is where the realizations, the soft moments, the strong words, and passion went. And every feeling and every action between the two had led them to this moment, this ultimate moment: the awkward silence.

Which passed, much to its description, awkwardly.

"Look," began Yusuke.

"I," Keiko had started.

They had both spoken at the same time.

Usually in moments like this the rule is that people should blush, turn away, and try to let the other person speak first. They would make the moment even more awkward; however, Yusuke believed in breaking rules and that if you have an opportunity to break a rule you should break it hard and with style.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, hoping the expression on his face looked calm.

The only problem with Yusuke's rule about breaking rules is that he has no style. None at all. He's as common as dirt. However, dirt gets people places, and it's used to both monotony and change.

This time the boy and the girl looked at each other, really looked. Up until this point they had been avoiding each other's gaze. Well actually, up until this point they had been sneaking glances at each other whenever the other wasn't looking. But now they really looked.

And this is the hard part. This is the part where you question whether you can give your heart, as scarred and ugly and dark and weak as it is, to someone else. This is where you wonder whether that precious thing that only seemed to matter to you, that you weren't sure you could safely entrust to someone else, could truly be given to someone whose heart was just the same. And you weren't sure other people would care or understand. You weren't sure if this heart thing was good or bad, but you desperately hoped it would be alright. You hoped, you just hoped, that someone would hold your heart kindly without squeezing too tight.

Yusuke looked serious.

They continued to look, really look, at each other.

Until the screaming began.

---

Ronjiru had excellent survival instincts. By the time Moeko had burst through his window, yowling like a wildcat, and landed atop his bed, he already had rolled over to the side--safely out of the path of whirling limbs--and was, remarkably, still asleep. In fact, it was quite possible that Ronjiru was capable of fending off a very determined assassin while dreaming about impressing pretty girls and boys.

Most people associated this with the fact that he was black. People became extremely surprised when they found out that this bit of assumption was not true, but instead made them incredibly ignorant. These same people probably expected the lead pipe that lay close to his reach, just under his pillow, but those people also probably said he had six or seven guns hidden somewhere. Which he didn't. He didn't need them. The lead pipe was only for poking around for things on the floor in the middle of the night. He had something better than weapons. He had…

…_Siblings._

Five younger siblings to be exact who could run circles around any incredibly skilled assassin, wild Moeko, or startlingly impressive duelist. It was likely that if Ronjiru's younger siblings ever found their way to demon world, it would have a few new demon lords. Or five very loud, very obnoxious, and very determined youngsters. And they weren't afraid of using certain bodily substances from the nose, ear, or mouth to get their way.

In any case, after years of having small hostile terrors jump him in the middle of the night, one lesser Moeko-shaped terror wasn't something that much worried the sleeping boy. He snored, rather loudly.

Moeko rolled him over and grabbed him by the nightshirt.

"Ronjiru!" she whispered in a way that suggested she'd be yelling if she wasn't fully aware that bursting through people's windows was not a generally acceptable way to get into someone's apartment.

The boy's eyelids fluttered.

"Moeko?" he mumbled trying to reason with the fact there was a girl gripping his nightshirt and who probably had every intention of beating the snot out him. Ronjiru didn't know why, but it seemed that a lot of people wanted to beat the snot out of him. It probably had to do something with the way he refused to get upset at things that normally distressed people. Like lions. Most people would overreact when they saw a lion jump out from nowhere and walk around. Ronjiru didn't see the need. If the lion didn't bother him then he didn't need to bother it. There's no point in bothering the poor lion just because it wasn't where it was supposed to be. It was probably looking for a friend.

For some reason Moeko never seemed to be impressed with this line of reasoning. Ronjiru also knew that girls who snuck into people's houses at night to wake up their sons were probably the sort of women his mother should have told him to avoid. He also found reason to ignore everything his mother should have told him.

The dark-skinned boy considered saying something, but then decided Moeko would probably get on with it. So he didn't bother wasting his breath on words his friend would only snap at. He closed his eyes again and waited.

The black-haired girl jumped off him and started rummaging through his closet. She threw a shirt at him.

"Get dressed. We have to stop the school paper from printing."

Ronjiru's room was the kind of room everyone wanted to clean up but could never find anything to actually clean. Not because there was nothing to clean, but because there was so much crap laying everywhere you didn't even know where to begin. It was the kind of room where you would pick up an object, look around for somewhere to put it, then place it somewhere else in the hopes that by moving that object the room looked cleaner. Then later, in that same day, someone else would come in, pick up that same object, look around, and shove it under the bed whose space was already at max capacity.

The girl circumnavigated the room perfectly, found some pants on the floor, and threw them onto the boy's bed.

Normal people would have reacted, "What the hell are you doing?" or perhaps "Err…" Maybe even they would have asked, "Why?" if they were conscious enough to comprehend what Moeko had said. But not Ronjiru. Ronjiru didn't react, he just came to a decision as if it had always been there and he had been waiting quietly for something to happen where he could use it.

Moeko turned away as the boy put on his clothes. The sounds of Ronjiru being lazy happened.

"How do we stop the school paper?"

"Don't know. I was hoping you'd have some idea."

Ronjiru nodded while finally getting around to pulling on his pants. He shuffled around on the floor for a bit and found a pair of socks. Only one was red and the other was green. Pairs were not a common occurrence in Ronjiru's room.

"Where is it being printed?"

The girl crossed her arms, "On Cherry Street, right behind the bookstore where I work."

"Isn't that bookstore part of a larger complex? Didn't it used to be apartments? So… doesn't it have a fire escape?"

Moeko started to nod before she stopped. "No, no more fire escapes. I climbed up the fire escape to your window. Then this lady attacked me with a cat because she thought I was a burglar, then for some reason, the staircase just kind of cuts off on your level and hurls people through windows."

"Oh, yeah, that _is_ a nice touch. I'd forgotten about that."

Moeko glared.

A thought suddenly occurred to Ronjiru.

"Why _did_ you come in through my window and not by the normal channels?"

"Normal channels meaning the front door?"

Ronjiru unearthed a shoe in a pile of extension cords. "Naturally."

"I thought it was a drama-approved method since we are now fully-operative Shuiichi Detectives."

The black boy nodded approvingly, "Sounds nice. Sounds capitalized. I like it. What's the _real_ reason?"

"Didn't want to wake your parents… or your siblings."

The black boy's siblings were notorious. Even the dark-haired girl would rather tackle a bear than mess with his siblings.

"When do we start investigating?" Ronjiru finally got about to putting on his shirt. He scratched his head before rummaging around his room. Either he was putting the pick-object-up-place-object-somewhere-else technique of cleaning to the test, or he was looking for something.

"After we finish Operation Cherry Street," said Moeko, rubbing her forehead, "I have what is to be considered blackmail on Shuuichi."

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with him, let alone investigate him."

"I'm a hypocrite. We do things we don't even want to do for reasons we don't even believe."

"Ah. Then it all makes sense."

Moeko clambered through the window and carefully crept down the fire escape. The streetlights glowed in the distance. Deep shadows flooded the alleyway and very few people walked by. The shadows didn't last long. From the _masturi_ grounds, the shots of fireworks sounded. Bright clusters of orange, blue, yellow, green, purple, and various other colors lit up the night like colorful stars.

"Here," said Ronjiru, tossing something towards the girl. It was a trench coat. Moeko looked at him quizzically. The boy finished putting on a different trench coat and clambered out over the window sill to join his friend.

"We are not true detectives unless we have the gear. Only detectives that have the gear can successfully accomplish their objectives."

In the light of the fireworks Moeko saw that Ronjiru was now wearing a fake mustache.

They _were _going to go spy-freak-magic-commando hamster.

Moeko groaned.

---

Kurama knelt down next to the bleeding demon under the streetlight. It was a heavily built humanoid one with ram horns on it's head. Its skin was red and it had very shaggy hair as well as a very curly white beard. One of its arms, it seemed, had been misplaced.

"What happened?" he asked Yusuke.

"Five, maybe six, demons jumped us. The couple on that bench," the detective pointed by way of demonstration to a bench, "started screaming when they saw horn-boy--that's him--and ran away. I knocked a few around until those fireworks went off. I think the display surprised them because as soon as it happened the one with the alligator jaws chomped off his friend's arm in confusion."

The redhead saw that someone had discarded the arm near the streetlight. He glanced at Yusuke. Keiko, who stood beside him, seemed to be very interested in the ground away from the injured demon. Kurama grimaced. Yusuke hadn't ditched Keiko for trouble as he had previously thought. Trouble ditched good timing for Yusuke and Keiko.

"Where are his friends now?"

The dark-haired boy shrugged, "They ran off."

Kurama glanced at Hiei, who was watching the demon without any apparent interest on his face. He was leaning against a wall and was obscured by the shadows created by the streetlight. He was also standing perfectly still and passers-by wouldn't have even seen him unless he moved or they got close enough to notice the Hiei-shaped space hidden in the shadow.

Hiei was the kind of person others avoided because he had the uncanny ability to stand perfectly still. He was the kind of person who just fit into shadows you never even knew were there. They were the kind of shadows you _thought_ were there but were never able to look into properly because you didn't _want_ to look in those shadows.

...Because things like Hiei lurked in them.

"Think you can catch them?" Kurama asked.

"Hn," he grunted--Hiei's universal language for "Yes," "No," "Get the hell away from me," and "I'm going to break your legs." Kurama, Yusuke, and Kuwabara had all learned to translate.

As soon as he had said it, he was gone probably traveling in shadows to avoid prying eyes--not that many eyes wanted to stay focused on Hiei for too long. Even people used to seeing things not normally seen couldn't seem to linger on him for very long. It was like people knew he didn't belong here--that he was something that shouldn't be here. He was nothing that you should find in a world of only humans.

Kuwabara arrived shortly after that. He had probably sensed the sudden sharp increase of demonic energy, and he had probably even felt their panic. Kurama wasn't quite sure the extent of Kuwabara's spirit awareness, but he was sure that if you could develop it enough, you could be aware of mass hysteria simply because so much energy was bouncing around. He knew for a fact that this awareness reached past levels he himself could detect, but the redhead didn't much like to focus on it. A mere human youth who had better awareness than a demon-turned-human was a concept he didn't like to think too much about.

Kuwabara asked Yusuke what happened and the detective gave him the same answer he'd given Kurama. The tall orange-haired boy squatted near the demon who at this point was out of shock and was trembling and moaning. He looked at the green-eyed teen.

"So are you going to do anything?"

Kurama had been about to ask why when he caught both the looks of Yusuke and Kuwabara. Of course, he thought, they care. It was a thought that surprised the redhead so much he almost chuckled. It seems that while he _had_ learned to love, thanks to his mother, and while he _had_ learned friendship, thanks to Yusuke, the general populace produced no known feelings in him. Fifteen years in a human body and in a human world couldn't change how he regarded society. It seems that he really was just as cold and cruel as he was in demon world.

Yusuke and Kuwabara, well, weren't. They were used to battles where, while you beat the crap out of your enemy, that enemy still walked away in the morning. Or in Yusuke's case, didn't walk away if you hurt his friends. But that was hot passion. It wasn't the cold cruelty Kurama had learned in demon world. In the demon world you didn't have _morals_ or _ethics_. The human teenagers had never watched an enemy die helpless, or die without there being something they could do about it. Whether they were helping or hindering didn't matter so long as _they_ were doing it.

"Sewing the arm back on would be useless. His tendons are torn. Even if I managed to sew it back on, the arm would be worthless. I could treat the wound and he could live without the arm, but he'll probably die of blood loss or pneumonia. It's a cold night."

"He's going to die?" Keiko asked, looking anywhere but the ground.

"Yes."

"Oh."

Kurama heard the sound of footsteps and remembered the "Squee!" he had heard earlier. If the word "Squee" designated anything, it meant Fangirl. If footsteps meant anything after "Squee" had been said, then there were probably Fangirls coming around the corner.

"And," he added, lifting up the other arm of the demon. "I think that we should move the body before somebody else finds him."

"Hey," muttered the demon weakly, "I ain't dead."

"Yet."

---

"I believe we've been stood up," Nakita told Moeko's grandfather, who had arrived shortly after Moeko left. The large girl was still sitting at the noodle shop.

Moeko's grandfather, a short man with a squint and white hair, nodded and tapped his cane against the ground.

"Would you like me to give her a good slap around the head when she gets home?"

"No, no!" exclaimed Nakita. "That's mean. But…"

The girl looked at the ground.

"Well?"

"Maybe you could talk to her a _little_ harshly next time you see her? I mean, just a _little _rough? But not so rough it hurts her feelings?"

The old man thought for a moment, withered gray hands resting on his cane.

"Little miss, I do hope you know that harsh words bounce off Moeko like rubber."

"Yes, but that's why you have to be nice about being harsh. It confuses her defenses and you can probably knock her unconscious with a pillow if you throw it hard enough."

"Or load it with stones."

---

Most people were stupid when it came to shadows. People thought that if you just wore a lot black and jumped into a shadow you were hidden from view. They thought that other people didn't see the idiot in black if they simply stood in the right shadows. They were wrong. _Every_ shadow _was_ the right shadow. People didn't see you in shadows not because you were wearing black and blended in. People didn't see you in shadows because they'd rather see the _shadows_ than see _you_.

Tracking down the demons that attacked Yusuke had been easy. All Hiei had to do was follow the path of stricken humans who shouted things like "Oh my!" and "Arrrggghhohnonononooodwufflefloggity--not my kidney!"

The fact of the matter was most demons are like humans: They are incredibly, incredibly stupid.

The demons had hidden in an alleyway and threw themselves into the shadows. They were talking.

It had been a stupid stunt. All the demons agreed. Now they nursed bruised jaws and arms and other places only dirty street fighting taught you about. They'd lost Akrarrl. But it didn't matter. No one had liked him anyway.

"'E didn't smell right," muttered the demon with alligator jaws.

The other demons commiserated.

"I think he had fleas."

"And rice. Lots and lots of rice."

"D'you mean 'lice?'"

"He always struck me as a little weird. Liked barnyard animals a little _too _much."

"He's a _ram_."

"So? People get strange ideas and do weird things way out in the country."

Later someone might ask: Why attack Yusuke? That wasn't the right question. The right question was: Why _not_ attack Yusuke? The detective didn't realize it, but he had become another Genkai. Another legend in the darkness of demon world.

The story goes like this: Way back when the worlds were one, demons preyed on humans. The demons were the right ones, they were the ones with power, and they were the ones for whom the world spun. But then the world changed. Demons fell out of favor with the gods, and the world turned to humans. There came the separation of worlds and then somehow humans mattered more. They were the right ones, they were the ones with power, and they were the ones for whom the world spun. All the demons could think of was that the gods now favored _that _pitiful world where weak humans managed to rule.

Then came Genkai, who was a nasty piece of work and who terrified demons. She'd shocked the demon world by winning the Dark Tournament. Here was a strong and beautiful human who considered becoming a demon _lower _than being human. Beautiful, powerful, human, but not weak. Not a weak human. Something that couldn't be preyed on. The right one, the one with power. She spun her own world.

But slowly time passed, and Genkai faded away in the eyes of the demons. She appeared in history books, but was nothing more in their minds but a fluke. Genkai was a special human; no others like her would come.

Then Yusuke happened. The demons couldn't say Yusuke came. Yusuke didn't have the ability to come. He happened to people, and that was it. He was a human, a spirit detective, and the _student_ of Genkai. A new legend was born. He wasn't right, but he had power. He spun the world, but in the other direction.

And demons were tugged by the force of the spin. They say: Kill Yusuke, but the detective's line of travel cut right through words. People went through life in circles and curves and orbits. Yusuke took the straight path, mercilessly tearing circles, curves, and orbits apart.

Yusuke was a force of nature you couldn't help but want to stop; not to see him stop, but to see what kind of damage he was capable of inflicting. Demons are like fans at a monster truck rally--all they want to see is the cars getting smashed to little bits and sometimes catching on fire.

Hiei especially liked the fire bit.

"Wonder who the girl was?" voiced a demon.

The group gave a collective shrug. They wanted to kill Yusuke, but they didn't know the story. They also certainly didn't know why.

The shadows inside the alleyway lurched; there was a sound, and a gleam of light.

"Urk!"

"Nargle? You okay?"

The body tried to slump forward. There appeared to be a misplaced sword stuck in his chest. A booted foot roughly thrust the body off the sword.

Blood dripped from cold metal.

"I don't think he's sleeping," Hiei told them.

And two teenagers in trench coats slipped into a bookstore right next to the alley.

---

Fangirls were a lot like humans who were a lot like demons.

"Oh my! I think Shuuichi lost an arm!"

There was blood on the ground, and the discarded arm was still there.

"Do you think maybe we should return it to him? Tell him, 'We found your arm and we thought you might need it back'?"

"I don't know. This arm looks awfully red to be Shuuichi's."

"Maybe he got a bad suntan."

"But it's autumn."

"Body paint?"

The Fangirls thought about this for a minute. A _long_ minute.

One girl picked up the arm and inspected it.

"Nah, I don't think so."

Somewhere it is rumored that Fangirls are not human. They have a genetic make-up that included a little more "insanity" and "obsessive-ness" than the average normal human. Or demon if you believed that humans were exactly like demons. In fact, a Fangirl is like personifying obsession and realizing obsession is obsessed with insanity. Fangirls don't have to focus on reality. They don't have to look at blood smears all over the ground and a bleeding, rotting arm and see that. They only have to see it in a situation where their obsession can take a play and replace what they're seeing.

"It's a prop."

"Yeah, a prop."

"What for?"

"He's leaving a trail for us to follow."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like… hide and go seek. It'll be fun. C'mon."

The Fangirls left the arm where it was and talked excitably amongst themselves, drifting down the sidewalk. One Fangirl turned back and peered at the arm curiously.

"Come on Tsu," called one of the pack. "We're going to leave you behind."

"Right," said Tsu with one last look before returning to the others.

Shuuichi Minamino was their god and he could never lead them to danger.

---


End file.
